


Simply Mystified

by Oparu



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 02:10:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oparu/pseuds/Oparu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kira Nerys attends one of those endless Starfleet conferences and discovers there's a dance. Beverly Crusher teaches her a few Terran steps.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Simply Mystified

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmic_llin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmic_llin/gifts).



> written for where_no_woman's dreamwidth party. The prompt was Nerys and Beverly have a dance off and this was as close as I got.

"This is ridiculous."

In front of her, the doctor shifted in her dress uniform. Her nearly-gold hair hung down to her shoulders, effortless, the way Nerys' never was. They'd been introduced, but Nerys had been told so many names in quick succession that she was relieved to have even remembered who was from which department.

In the long line waiting to sign in to the conference, Nerys reminded herself not to fidget. She'd been sent to represent not just _Deep Space Nine_ , but Bajor, and she would make a good impression. The doctor in front of her was from the Enterprise, which meant she'd already made quite an impression. She was probably judging Nerys right now because she wasn't perfectly content to queue and wait for someone to take basic information from her. If she was on the _Enterprise_ , she was Starfleet to the core, worse than Sisko, probably worse than Bashir.

Great. She couldn't even talk to her to pass the time.

Nerys crossed her arms, running through the simplest of meditation exercises. The Prophets were her last hope for patience.

"Are you looking forward to the dance tomorrow?"

She stopped, mid-mantra and turned.

"Dance?"

"The second night of the conference always has a dance. Regional styles of the host planet."

"So Terran dances." Something else she was terrible at, that even the Prophets might not be able to help her with.

"Swing, salsa and tango, I believe."

"Isn't salsa a food?" No one named dances after food on Bajor.

"It is a food."

The doctor tilted her head, leaning against the wall, still graceful, all long legs and neat lines. She could probably do the salsa-food-dance very well. They probably had dancing on the damn _Enterprise_ all the time.

"Do we have to dance?"

"We don't have to, but it saves you from having to stay around the tables and talk to the people who haven't heard enough of their own voices at the conference."

Nerys rubbed her forehead. "Know anywhere I could learn to dance?"

The _Enterprise_ doctor grinned and that made her even prettier. Did she even see dirt on the flagship? Stop being unfair. She was being nice.

"If you're not busy after the afternoon session, I could teach you the basics."

"I'm not busy."

"Meet me in my room, eastern tower number, 1446." She made the offer without even reminding Nerys of her name, then filled out her registration form and vanished.

Nerys stared after her, forgetting to move forward until the lieutenant waiting for her cleared his throat.

"Major Kira Nerys, _Deep Space Nine_."

"Here you are, Major. I hope you enjoy the conference."

"Can I ask, who was in front of me? From the _Enterprise_."

The lieutenant glanced at his list, completely helpful. "Doctor Beverly Crusher, she'll be speaking on interspecies reproduction and support structures needed for interspecies families."

So she was clever enough to speak at the conference too. She ought to have guessed.

After hours of talk about the wonders of the multi-cultural Federation and a series of speakers she suspected had never been far from Earth in their comfortable Federation colony lives, Nerys retreated to her room in the western tower just long enough to take off her uniform. She was proud of the red of Bajor but it seemed out of place here when everyone else wore the black and grey of Starfleet. Better to wear the dress she'd packed on a whim. She'll been in that tomorrow, so she might as well break it in.

The eastern tower had green decor instead of the blue of the western one. Other than that, it was identical to Nerys' accommodation. She rode the lift up to the fourteenth floor, then headed down the hall until she stood in front of 1446.

Would she be there? Wouldn't she have something to do? Plan her speech? Nerys finally rang the chime, trying to decide what to do with her hands.

"Come in, come in." Dr. Crusher waved her in. All the furniture was up against the wall in the small sitting room, making a space. She had changed as well, and her green dress clung to her body the way Nerys' clothing never does. "Perfect timing. I just found the music I wanted to use."

"You looked for music?"

"Of course!" Beverly headed for a glass bottle on the table. "I was about to have an old fashioned, would you like one?"

"A what?"

"An Earth drink."

"Oh. We don't have many of those on _Deep Space Nine_."

Beverly pulled glasses from the compartment in the wall next to the replicator then heads back to the table next to the window. Unlike Nerys' room, Beverly has a bar.

After Nerys has stared at it instead of watching Beverly make the drinks, she explained. "I asked for one. The eastern tower is more traditional and each room has a bar with real drinks."

"And I was excited I had a replicator."

"You could switch," Beverly said, mixing sugar into something dark, then finishing the drink with ice and liquor.

"I don't know what I'd do with a Terran bar."

"Could be fun finding out." Beverly handed her a drink. "This is an old fashioned."

"Now I'll know."

Beverly's smile had that Terran utter lack of guile Garak often marvelled at and a hint of something older, more like Jadzia in the right light.

"So, I thought we'd start with salsa because the steps are simple, move on to basic swing and save the tango for when we're warmed up."

Hopefully warmed up involved a few more drinks. Nerys downed the one in her hand, letting it burn down her throat.

"This is good."

"My grandmother's recipe."

Nerys swirled the ice and set down her empty tumbler. "Okay. I'm yours."

Beverly extended a hand and led her to the middle of the clear living room. She looked Nerys up and down, then reached for her hips. "May I?"

Nerys kept herself from stepping back. The touch of strangers had rarely been a good thing. Beverly wouldn't know that and she wasn't going to hurt her. Her thoughts passed in a split second and she nodded.

"Yes, sure, go ahead."

There was no pain. Nerys body stiffened, ready for what never came. Beverly's hands were steady and kind, aligning her hips as she explained the motion. She called for music from the computer, and they danced together, standing hip to hip. Step-shift-return, step-shift-return: over and over. When Nerys had the step, Beverly turned to face her, stepping forward as she stepped back, smiling.

When Nerys didn't know what to do with her hands, Beverly took them. They turned in a slow circle, still stepping.

"Once it's in your body, you can add the simple moves."

She wanted to add to the difficult. Whenever Nerys had something, it always had to get harder.

"What's a simple move?"

"A spin, like this."

With one of Nerys' hands in hers, Beverly spun, returning to Nerys still in step. Her skirt flared out, exposing her knees and the beginnings of her thighs. Her hair bounced back from her cheek. Nerys forced herself to watch Beverly's feet instead of the rest of her body. She watched again, then Beverly spun her. Nerys' hair was too short to twirl outward like Beverly's but her skirt swirled around her legs, winding up then falling back.

They were up to a double spin after that, then increasingly more intricate winding of arms: Beverly's arm over, Nerys' back, winding and unwinding, twirling and moving together.

Breathing and grinning, they stopped, listening to the horns and guitars as Beverly made another round of drinks. She handed Nerys the first one and worked the glass stick through the second, muddling it. Her hands were as exact as her feet. All of her body had been trained, worked until it was finely tuned; Nerys admired that.

"Does Starfleet teach dance at the Academy?"

"A few styles, mostly for diplomatic occasions. Most people dread the classes and try to come up with reasons to skip them. I loved it. Betazoid folk dance, Klingon jigs, Vulcan traditional double-step: all of them were fascinating." She took a sip, looking back to Nerys with her eyes very blue. "I hear they have a few Bajoran dances now."

"None that I'm any good at."

"No?"

"No time for dancing."

"Right," Beverly said. She stared at her shoes. "I'm sorry."

"I have time for it now." Nerys held up her glass to Beverly's, clinking them together. "If you learn any Bajoran dances, you can teach me."

"Maybe you should find the time for a few, then you can teach me next year."

Nerys couldn't help returning Beverly's playful little smile. "Is that a challenge?"

"Only if you like them."

"Some."

"This could be a good one for you."

Nerys finished her drink. Warm and comfortable, she reached for Beverly's empty hand. "What's next?"

"Swing."

"Swing?"

"It was popular on Earth in the twentieth century and revived in several times after that."

"You're a nostalgic people."

"Hopefully that's a good thing." Beverly didn't reach for Nerys' hips this time and she was almost disappointed. Swing was a bouncier step, less saucy, less in the hips but full of energy. They spun out and back in, both of their dresses hardly finishing spinning in one direction before they wound up in the other. Beverly had sweat on her forehead and Nerys' skin was warm. The heat made the dance that much more alive.

She gulped a glass of water between songs, then returned to Beverly's arms. Swing was closer, their hands were on each others arms and backs. Beverly led, guiding her through more spins. Then, before another drink they worked out a dip, Beverly bending Nerys back over her thigh.

"Show me how to do that."

"Worried you'll drop me?"

"Not at all." Nerys looked at Beverly, still matching her smile. "I want to see what it looks like when it's done properly."

"How do you know I'll do it properly?"

Nerys would easily believe Beverly does everything properly, except the things that are best left beyond such things as propriety, like her legs.

"What do I do?"

"Bend your knees, set your hips so you're balanced, then bend me back over your leg. You support my back, keep my head off the floor--"

They run through the manoeuvre in slow motion, like docking a starship in simulation. There was an equal sort of beauty. Beverly was made of the same clean lines of Starfleet ships, all sleek and curved just enough. Her dress tumbled down her leg as she brought it up. Nerys couldn't be sure where to look: at Beverly's décolletage, exposed and upside-down, or the way her hair fell back, hanging like the soft moss on the Rakanthan trees that she has never seen.

Enthralled by the power she held with Beverly in her arms, Nerys forgot how close Beverly would be when she came back up. That Terran singer crooned in the background and the music hung in the air soft and lazy. Beverly's hair fell back to her shoulders, tousled and free, begging to be stroked.

Nerys pulled her hand away from Beverly's exposed back, keenly aware of the contact burning through her.

"You're strong."

"Springball."

"Want to try it with a lead in? You'll have to lead." Beverly placed Nerys' hand right where it was, against bare skin. Leading came naturally because Beverly followed her feet. Nerys took her around the room, circling the space so that they fill it up together. She spun her out, brought her back, led Beverly though a twisting and untwisting of arms that ended with Beverly in close.

Coal- Cole Porter- sang of a world full of lies, yet Beverly was true. She believed. Nerys dipped her back and Beverly's leg made the motion one of perfect angular lines, artistic in the mirror on the wall.

When she came up, Nerys' lips tingled. She'd blame the drink, but she can hold her liquor. Beverly Crusher was beyond her fingertips, then she wasn't.

Whisky tasted better on her lips than it did in the glass, and better still off her skin.

She went home with the bottle, wondering if Jadzia knew how to tango.


End file.
